Unlikely
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: It’s unlikely that Logan Reese and Lisa Perkins even strike up a friendship. But it’s definitely likely to continue. LoganLisa friendship. MichaelLisa. LoganQuinn.


**A/N: My first Logan/Lisa friendship piece. I love them both, and they should have been friends in the show. I like to tell myself that Lisa knew about the Quogan secret all along, and she was the only one to witness their school wide confession at prom. So, that's where my inspiration comes from. **

**Disclaimer: I hate stating the obvious.**

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**Unlikely**

**i.**

No one ever suspects that Logan Reese and Lisa Perkins will talk, much less become quite good friends. But it's all thanks to a seating arrangement in Social Studies class that make the entire class wonder what the seating arrangement can't be by last name, but then again, Mrs. Gardiner is a "weird, messed up hag that needs to get laid".

Lisa sighs, biting back a smile at his remark. Sure, it's obviously wrong, and Lisa should be a model student, keeping up her pretty good average if she wants early acceptance to Julliard and the University of Houston for their dance (Fine Arts) program.

But Logan is a class clown and Lisa is a model student.

(Don't tell anyone but she enjoys Logan's company in between note-taking and the dark art of stealthy note-passing.)

**ii.**

The javaccino is warm, sending her a mocha taste dancing on her taste buds.

With a soft sigh, and somewhat of a laugh, Lisa shakes her head softly. Creativity is healthy, and that's something her Social Science project partner has a lot of, but there's no way in her right mind she's going to do an expose documentary on the effects of dance battles (as tempting as it is – god, she loves to dance).

"Why not?"

"Logan, we have to do something that illustrates the hierarchy of society," she explains. "Dance battles don't. At lease I don't think they do."

(She seriously has to have a talk with Quinn – Logan and his powers of persuasion…)

His eyes are trained, absentmindedly twirling the straw of his banana-strawberry smoothie before Lisa watches a smirk grow on his face, eyebrows raised in a challenging manner, "Come on. You're not even sure if dance battles actually affect people. Lisa, you know it's a perfect pitch and it's the only thing that won't make me fall asleep."

"If we do this pitch, it'll have to be an experiment of sorts like from break-dancers to ballerinas."

The thought of b-boys and b-girls on the streets of Malibu, contemporary dancers, Latin style dancers, hip-hop dancers, tap dancers…

(Oh God. Is she succumbing to Logan's persuasive "superpowers"?)

"So, we're doing it?" Logan questions, looking at Lisa expectedly. Letting a soft sigh escape her and taking the last sip of her mocha javaccino, she mulls it over because she really could stretch those choreographing muscles, and finally scratch that dance itch.

"Okay," Lisa caves with a resolute smile. "We're doing the dance hierarchy pitch."

(Don't tell anyone, but _Logan's_ pitch actually scores them ten days of choreographing, time with their significant others, directing, dancing off and on set – the set's a loan from dear ol' dad – and an A.)

**iii.**

Logan hates taking orders from people.

Lisa finds the tasks of making her boyfriend organized, colour-coded biology notes quite tiring, but she drops the notes of the evolution and division processes of a cell, she finds Logan staring up at the ceiling like it's expected to burst into flames, and incinerate anyone foolish enough to cross his (in)famous wrath. Lisa knows Logan well enough to know that his girlfriend will pacify him – she shouldn't question the purplish-reddish mark on his neck – but Logan is angry and Lisa happens to be caught in the metaphorical crossfire. All because Michael is off being Chase's best friend and trying to sort out some romantic crisis.

Logan doesn't care and he's sure to hear about it, even if he is to figuratively shoot himself in the ear.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

"I hate my dad. He's an evil person."

He's exaggerating the situation, and Lisa fights the urge not to roll her eyes, but she builds a sibling-like relationship with him. She wants to dismiss it lightly, but one of her better traits manifests itself – Lisa will be a good listener, not because it's the right thing to do but because she's come to like Logan in the form of a slightly older brother.

"Logan, we're friends, right?" she questions softly, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. With an inaudible sigh, Logan shrugs loosely. He sighs, rolling over on his top bunk. Lisa leans on the top railing of his bed.

"Sure. You're kinda cool, and you're one of the few people I can put up with."

(Code for I'm suffering, but what the hell…I'll open up to you, I guess.)

"Thanks," Lisa replies, with a smile before her face becomes thoughtful and pensive. "I think."

"My dad's making me a job. He says it'll prepare me more for the 'real world'," Logan explains, with a roll of his eyes. He even goes as far as to scornfully add air quotes to emphasize the words _real world_.

"So, you're upset because your dad wants you to earn something instead of just handing it to you?"

"Yes!" he exclaims, sitting up and jumping from the top bunk. Lisa drops the transparent blue folder on the desk cluttered with multiple papers, essay outlines mostly likely from Chase (when least scatterbrained), and a job application from that new lounge café that just opens up on campus. "Quinn got the application for me. I love her, but I wasn't born to…you know."

Lisa laughs, and supplies him the word he finds of abysmal to say, "Work?"

"Yeah, that's the word."

(Oh, Quinn. You have a doozy – in the most respectful of terms – of a boyfriend on your hands.)

"You've never worked a day in your life, have you?"

"Hey! That's not true. I did work," Logan defends fiercely towards the girl who's looking at him with a bemused expression on her face. It's called supervision, and it's sorta…hard. He falters slightly, throwing his hands in the air. "Okay, okay. For like a month in the eighth grade. But people do what I want, and I pay them. Then life is good."

"Wow, you have a lot to learn about the work force."

"Well, I don't want to 'learn' anything. I don't know what kind of parenting book my dad is reading," he pauses. "…or if he's bothered to read one at all. He'll most likely to have Chauncey read it to him."

"Who's Chauncey?" Lisa questions, with an even merge of confusion and amusement.

"British butler I'm forced to like."

"Oh."

Logan most definitely would never be able to survive in Texas, but mulling it over (she finds herself doing that a lot in Logan's presence), she needs something else other than extracurricular dance and she also needs something to de-stress because SATs are sure to make every Senior on campus a bit college crazy.

"I'll apply with you."

Logan looks at his roommate's girlfriend like she's sprouted an extra head – or twelve, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I need to something else to do anyway, and _The Stingray Lounge_ looks pretty awesome. They must've spent the entire summer making it out of that old donut place," Lisa explains, and then she direct that reassuring smile Logan's way. "And for once, I'm glad we were arranged by name in social studies because I like you. In that totally, platonic, BFF way. You're not as bad as you want people, well besides Quinn, to think."

(He loves Quinn in that I'm-going-to-marry-you-someday way, but he loves Lisa in that girlspeak, BFF way too.)

He smirks playfully, "So, you think you got me all figured out, huh?"

"For the most part, yeah," Lisa answers, nodding, and makes her way to the door, as her cell phone buzzes. She scans the new text and sighs. "I have to go, but we'll hang out tomorrow. Double date with me, Michael, you and Quinn sound good?"

"I'm cool with that."

Lisa walks through the door, and Logan realizes he totally owes her for keeping his relationship with Quinn a secret, since she has to find out the random, unexpected way.

So much for incinerating the application to what could be a potentially sort of cool job.

(Logan applies only because he hears their bean bag chairs are cool.)

**iv.**

_The Stingray Lounge_ is not that bad (pretty freaking cool) and Logan can tolerate Jean, the manager.

Jean is laid back, and clearly doesn't have a stick up her ass. Standing only at five foot two, blond wisps of hair that escape her bun frame her heart-shaped face. There are little brown freckles that can be seen up close and her eyes are a warm brown colour. Logan has no idea a job can this hard and time-consuming, but he's this close to stealing a bean bag chair (and getting paid, he thinks as a side thought).

And then there's Gene, the cook, who makes everything from sundaes to steak.

Sighing, Lisa takes off the nametag usually pinned to her shirt, and tosses Logan the keys to the place from the beanbag he's planted on, before she hops up on a table delicately and shuts down the bright neon light that shines since after six and it's now midnight on a Friday (er, Saturday morning). Jean trusts them to close the place down due to a family emergency and Gene goes home at ten-thirty along with the other co-workers. Logan has the jingling keys in his hands and is thankful to finally have the last customer out, but inwardly groans when that accursed bell rings. Lisa hops off the table and smiles brightly, greeting her boyfriend with a hug with a long overdue kiss. Lisa hugs Quinn, before Michael loops an around her waist, planting another gentle kiss in her hair.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"Yeah, but I had to see my baby working," Quinn replies, and kisses the semi-sleeping boy, sprawled out on a beanbag chair, on the nose while lightly play with his hair – well, out of force of habit. "And tranquilizing Coco wasn't too hard."

"What did you do?" Lisa asks, innocently, only meet Michael's warning gaze.

"Babe, it's just not best to ask. All I know is that it worked, and we're here after weekend curfew," Michael answers, as Lisa plays with his fingers affectionately.

"Right. So, any ideas on how to wake Logan up? He did have a productive day with a lot of tips."

Michael's baritone laughter sounds, "Seriously? Because Logan and productive just went in the same sentence."

The laughter dies down when there are two staring missiles loading and headed in his direction: his girlfriend's raised eyebrow in questioning, and his friend's glare.

"Okay, shutting up now," Michael says, and sighs as Lisa pats his middle lightly, when he smiles down at her. "I will now walk my girlfriend to her dorm, and get some asleep."

"Even though Logan's pretty much had a head-start," Lisa giggles.

Quinn smiled, "Don't worry. I have a few ideas on how to wake him up."

"You're allowed to have bf/gf kissage as long as you work," Jean would say using air quotes around the fictional term. Her eyes would then become playful yet sort of stern all at once. "But no sex on the floors, tables, counters or the bean bag chairs, even if it's the largest innuendo-induced fantasy you have. People actually eat/sit off/on those things."

"Later Quinn – and when you have the chance, tell him he's working again on Tuesday."

(Lisa leaves. Michael leaves with her. Quinn knows better, and finds her boyfriend with two typical things: brilliant brown eyes that make her heart melt, and a playful, and slightly mischievous smirk.)

Her wavy hair is pulled back into a ponytail, as she's wearing pajama bottoms, a shirt and flip flops. Her glasses hide her beautiful eyes.

"I knew you were faking the whole thing."

"Ah, well, my little tease. You started it. I could have kept the act going if you hadn't played with my hair, kissed my cute, perfect nose, and now you're wearing my shirt. Now, could I resist with that? You know you look sexy in my clothes. You, at least, had to give me time to build my defense."

"You'd lose either way."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Nope," Quinn says, with affectionate and endearing teasing. She places a kiss on his lips, before pulling away. "It's the truth. You have to go to you dorm and sleep. You look tired."

"I don't know if I want to get up anymore, the way you're straddling me and all."

Just to appease him, Quinn gets off of him with one last kiss in store, he yawns, locks the place up and puts the keys on the table closest to the door. After all, Jean has the spare for when she comes in later.

Quinn grabs his hand, leading him out of _The Stingray Lounge_, and her smile radiates under the cover of night, "I'm proud of you, Logan."

He's proud of himself too, and makes the mental note to buy a single yellow tulip and mocha grandiose javaccino in the morning when he's not so wrecked.

(Because Logan's never had a close confidante like Lisa before, and Quinn gets the tulip just because.)

Logan's sleepy, but Quinn is on his back in piggyback style, loosely (but securely) around his neck.

(She's cute when she sleeps – but two can play at that game: Quinn's not sleeping; she's just happily comfortable, being on his back.)

**v. **

Lisa Perkins should be happy tonight.

After all, it's Senior Prom. She's in one of the prettiest lavender-coloured halter dress she's ever seen in her life. A pretty floral corsage of the same colour sits on her wrist, her dark tresses are longer this year almost touching her mid back bone straight, and her accessories are silver, making her feel sparkly. Her boyfriend looks absolutely handsome with his tie to match her dress and his boutonniere. He turns from mingling with his best friend, and Vince Blake, long enough to wink at her that in cute way accompanied with one of his smiles, even though she realizes that Michael will be attending the Georgia State University this fall, and she'll be going to the University of Houston all because they want to be closer to hone, but they won't even be in the same state.

Lisa smiles, and waves back, regardless.

She loves Michael, and sure, they'll see each other all summer, but what happens after summer vacation? Her only consolation is that Atlanta and Texas do share a border and they'll be in the same region: Southern United States. Maybe Lisa is just psyching herself out, but aside from missing her boyfriend terribly, the whole prospect of the post-secondary world is exciting, but just downright scary at the same time.

Bringing her punch to her lips, Lisa sighs softly and comes to face-to-face with Logan, decked out in a tux with the occasional splash with red hinted by the tie, and boutonnière of the same deep, rich red shade. His hair seems straighter than the natural curl he always goes for.

"Hey," she greets, tapping a manicured nail against the plastic cup.

"Hey yourself," Logan surveys the decorations the prom committee puts together. Light blue and dark purple streamers with balloons of the same colours along a giant banner Class of 2009 Prom hanging up on the ceiling in the horizontal direction. "God, everyone goes all out for this prom thing."

A smile reaches her glossed lips when she puts her punch down because she doesn't want to drink it anymore, and Lisa lightly touches his arm.

"So, just how many stores did Quinn have to drag you to before she picked out her dress?"

Logan scoffs in mock distaste, "She didn't have to drag me anywhere, and two, _I_ picked it out."

Glancing at Quinn mingling with her roommates while posing for pictures taken with the flash of a digital camera, Lisa sees Quinn in an off-the-shoulder gown that's a satin red with her long brunette locks are in a half-updo while the hair falls right down in their famous waves. She's not wearing glasses, but they are replaced with contact lenses for the night anyway. She looks absolutely stunning, and Lisa will definitely tell her that. Turning back to Logan, Lisa smiles, "Good choice."

"Yeah, I think so too," Logan smiles the smallest of smiles, and offers Lisa a hand. "Wanna dance?"

(A dance between friends is okay with her – and they're nominated for PCA Surprise BFFs in the Yearbook, or something like that. Quinn and Michael don't mind.)

"Okay."

Taking his hand, Lisa follows Logan onto the wide dance floor where other prom-goers talk amongst themselves. The disk jockey is spinning some slow, dance-vibe song, she can't really recall but that dark cloud of college life hangs over her. Logan's hands are on her waist, and Lisa puts her arms around his neck as they sway in the time to the soft beat.

"What's eating you?"

Lisa doesn't whether to be amused or surprised. They're only friends for a short while, and when it's odd how Logan can read her so well. Lisa finds that mind-boggling, and doesn't know what to say, so she dismisses it because it's prom night. She'll try to be that happy optimistic person she's known to be, and try to ignore the fact that being in college for her first year isn't scary.

"Nothing, Logan," she assures, shaking her head lightly.

"Fine, but it's pretty rare that I actually do something nice for someone that's not Quinn. I've been nice to everyone in the past weeks, separately, but nice – or my definition of that."

Lisa raises an eyebrow in skepticism, "Even Michael?"

"I hid his clackers in an easier place. I consider that being nice. I could have cut the strings up," he defends adamantly, hands still at Lisa's sides. "This week, it's Lola's turn which will be painfully hard, and as my friend, I want to know what's buggin' you just because."

"That's sweet of you."

"Yeah, don't tell people."

"My lips are sealed," Lisa says, with a laugh while she links her fingers at the back of Logan's neck. She sighs, and caves badly. "But if you must know, Michael and I going to different colleges next year. I got into the University of Houston and he's going to Georgia State, and it's scary because every though we're busy here, Michael and I manage to spend time together, but I know it won't be like that anymore."

"Michael's nuts about you, trust me. He knows that, and makes sure everyone else does too," Logan replies, with a slight roll of his eyes when he recalls the memory of Michael's muttering incoherencies in his sleep about dumping Halle Berry, and Tyra Banks because he loves Lisa now. One more depressing flute song in the closet, and Logan's about to hit him over the head with mentioned instrument. "I mean, Quinn helped me study for the whole college application thing, and I'm off to UC Berkeley and she's going to Stanford – it's not exactly PCA, but I, you know…love her because she just gets me, so we'll make it work somehow."

(Logan's words are actually sinking in – deep, insightful, and totally unexpected, but most definitely appreciated.)

"How do you know so much?"

"I'm smart, Lisa. Maybe not in the normal way, but I have the Logan Reese brand of smarts," Logan tells with a harmless cocky smirk on his features. "But yeah, Michael's a dude in love. So don't get all riled up about next year."

Lisa smiles genuinely, when the music stops as they let go off each other.

"Thank you."

Logan shrugs loosely, and smiles back, "No problem."

"Okay, Stingrays," the DJ's voice booms over the speakers, as the beginnings of a romantic song start to play. "We're going to slow things down a little, so grab your special someone and hit the dance floor!"

Lisa gives Logan a hug before returns the gesture and he nods silently – like there's an unspoken mutual understanding no one will ever understand but them – before going off to find his girlfriend. It's not long before, Logan and Quinn are slow dancing like it's just them on the floor with all of the love and admiration in the world. Chase is slow dancing with Zoey, with the occasional but discrete peck on the cheek, while Lola and Vince dance casually as friends, since they break up over three months prior. She knows something dramatic with most definitely happen between Logan and Quinn again, and once again, she'll be up close to see it all.

And the fact that he tells her one day after work helps as well. The ring will look beautiful sitting Quinn's finger.

(Pre-Quinn Logan would never have a four year engagement, but Post-Quinn Logan throws caution to the wind, even more, now that he's with her.)

"Hey, Lil' Lisa," Michael says, taking her hand, and kisses her on the cheek before Lisa looks up at her boyfriend, studying all of his features. And Michael really makes her laugh, her heartbeat increase in the most affectionate of ways, and just the look of sincerity makes Lisa fall for the adorably sweet guy a hundred times over. Cradling his face, Lisa presses her lips to his in a kiss that catches Michael quite off-guard, but when they separate, he doesn't mind, at all.

"Not that I didn't like that, but what do I do to get that? Please tell me, so I can do it more often."

"I'm just happy," Lisa tells him, playing with his fingers. "Michael, I love you, and it shouldn't matter that we'll be going to different colleges in different states. We'll make it work, okay?"

"I love you too," he kisses the back of her hand in total agreement. "We can do it."

Intertwining their fingers, and walking onto the dance floor, Michael and Lisa dance.

(Something dramatic does at prom, judging by the happy sob from Quinn, and it cuts the music off, completely. Quinn says yes. Logan grins widely, and in a moment of complete déjà vu, they're kissing in celebration. Difference? The whole school is cheering them on with cheers and whistles. Jeremiah Trottman now has his big story.)

And Lisa's smiling, hers a combination of shock and happiness for her friend.

Logan's smiling back, deliriously happy and grateful towards the one person he thinks he can never be friends with.

It's unlikely that Logan Reese and Lisa Perkins even strike up a friendship.

But it's definitely likely to continue.

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**A/N: Okay, I had a little time this morning to type up the ending, I'm sort of happy with in a neutral kind of way. I have to go to the church this morning, so please tell me this piece didn't totally and completely suck, and I'll learn to love it. And it's snowing here, so inspiration for a Chola oneshot has struck me since snow and anything winter-like reminds me of them. I've decided to make that Misa oneshot into a multichaptered thing. Trust me, it'll all planned in my head, and it'll be long. I don't want to lose interest by typing some outrageously long anyway. So yeah, areviews would be nice to see once I get back. I'm at a crunch for time so sorry for any errors you might find. I'll come back and edit it thoroughly.**

**-Erika**


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